Title: The Rightful King
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Warnings: Torture (though it's rather light), abuse, slash (this means boy on boy action people. Don't like, don't read) and idiocy (on the part of the Dursley's. People that stupid deserve a warning).
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. Hogwarts is not mine (unfortunate, that). The poems are mine! If you wish to use them, please ask.
Summery: The Griffindor Kingdom is in ruins. Poverty plagues the land as the vile and greedy King Vernon sits on his golden thrown and watches. A marriage, long arranged, has finally come to pass. Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, has come to Griffindor in order to wed the prince and make peace between the feuding lands. When rumours of a Rightful King reach the Prince's ear he must decide just what lengths he's willing to go to in order to avoid marrying Prince Dudley. But who is the Rightful King? And what, exactly, does the beaten, starved, beautiful but fiery slave Harry got to do with any of it? A tale of mystery and sorrow, friendship and love and the never-changing fact that nothing is ever as it seems...
Authors Note: Slowly, slowly. If it wins the race, I'll be fine. Because this story is taking forever to edit. Editing is boring. Oh well, I'm over half-way now. And it'll make me feel better. As always, read and review. Reviews give me strength! Flames will be used to toast my toes. I've very cold toes.
Sure, we have some problems
But can't we work them out?
There's just so much deceit around
Their lies are all about
There's people I can trust
But there's trickery as well
All within a humble town
Around a church and bell
So I don't know where I'm going
And I don't know when I'll stop
There's just one thing I'm sure of
-I will come out on top.
Chapter Four: Towns, Tricks and Treasures
Harry had never seen the village before, so he was practically jumping out of his skin with excitement as they stepped through the large gates (the guards having reluctantly opened them seconds before). Draco tired to contain his amusement at Harry's antics, but was failing miserably. Harry was acting like a child in a candy store and the look was priceless.
The cheer was starkly out-of-place, however. The village was as far from joyful as a village could possibly get. Most of the houses were is stages of utter disrepair and it was clear, from the appearance of the people themselves, that whatever funds were to be had could not be wasted on something as trivial as home renovations. Harry did not discount the poverty, but he didn't flinch from it either. Rather, he took everything in with a sort of innocent curiosity usually exhibited only in the very young.
The most obvious character the town possessed was the overall chaos –everyone had a place to go, and a timeframe in which to get there. Which, naturally, lead to very busy streets, very irritable people and very little time to pay attention to unimportant individuals. Thus, Harry was quite thoroughly ignored and Draco (an obvious prince, even when not dressed the part) gathered only a few disinterested looks.
A factor that Harry was willing to take full advantage of.
Still, it did lead Harry to wonder who would speak to them. It seemed that no one would be able to spare so much as a moment to answer their questions. And if they did decide to spare some time, Harry had to be certain they didn't recognise who, exactly, it was they were talking to. He needed to interact with the people as naturally as possible –the last thing they needed was another tyrant and, if anyone recognised him, it would doubtlessly lead to some very awkward questions, none of which Harry would be able to answer.
It was then that a young girl, no older than seven, darted through the crowed and bumped square into Harry's chest. Harry was merely shaken from his thoughts but the child was knocked to the floor harshly, her arms and knees scraping the gravel as she did so. The child was stunned for only a fraction of a second before, rather abruptly, she burst into tears.
Her hysteria was loud enough to attract some attention, and many people immediately turned a nervous eye to Draco, certain that he would punish the child for daring to touch him –something Prince Dudley was sure to have done. Before Draco could even bat an eyelash, however, Harry was scooping the girl up and into his arms.
"Are you alright?" He asked her gently.
The child, still crying, shook her head miserably and hiccupped.
"Does it hurt very much?" he asked, prompting her further.
"Y… yes." She managed at last, amidst her tears.
Harry studied her grazes critically.
"Well," he began, expression solemn, "I'm afraid were going to have to cut these limbs off. They're far too damaged."
The girl went from crying to horrified in a second flat and Harry, unable to keep a straight face any long, burst into laughter at her expression. The girl, realizing she'd been had, immediately pouted.
"That's not funny," she chastised him crossly.
"Isn't she precious?" Harry asked of Draco, "She actually believed me!"
The child pouted further.
"Harry, leave the poor defenceless child alone." Draco scolded dryly.
"You're no fun," Harry accused, with such exaggerated woe that the child giggled.
"What's so funny?" he demanded in a voice that only made her giggle further.
"Nothing," she returned innocently, eyes sparkling.
Harry smiled at her before turning to study the girl's wounds again.
"In any case, I think you'll live," he remarked, "Perhaps watch were you're going in the future. You could have killed me!"
The child laughed at his stricken expression, and, perhaps attracted by the laughter, a man spotted them and immediately rushed over. Considering the child was laughing, the raw terror on his face seemed distinctly out of place.
"Oh, I am so sorry," the man gushed at once, looking frantic, "I assure you the child will be punished, I swear it. Please, don't hurt her!"
The child looked alarmed at the man's fear and Draco quickly rushed to the rescue.
"That really won't be necessary," he assured the man.
"It was only an accident," Harry added, "We could hardly punish her for that. And besides," he added, smiling, "She'd far too sweet."
"I am not!" the girl protested at once
"Of course not," Harry agreed, in a manner than implied he didn't agree at all. The child pouted at this and laughing, Harry put the girl back on her feet before straightening, running a hand through his hair as he did so.
The man, seeing the lightning bolt scar, let loose a gasp and actually backed up a step. He couldn't have looked more startled if he'd seen a ghost.
"What's her name?" Harry asked, hoping to draw the man out.
"Olivia," the man replied shakily, not calmed in the least.
"What's yours?" Olivia returned, smiling sweetly.
"Well, I'm Harry," Harry began, "And this is Draco."
Draco nodded before turning his attention to the man.
"We were looking for someone," he informed the man gently, "Do you think you could help us?"
"Don't even bother," Harry put in, cutting any sort of reply off, "You'll never find him."
Draco ignored the interruption, focusing only on the man who, seeing this, fidgeted slightly.
"Whom are you hoping to find?" he asked softly, drawing his daughter close.
"The rightful king." Draco answered bluntly.
The man started and, for a moment, looked directly at Harry before tearing his eyes away and speaking.
"No one knows where the rightful king is," he answered, voice shaking, "Only that he's somewhere safe."
"Draco," Harry began, making sure he sounded suitably frustrated, "When the time is right, the rightful king will throw that vain old man off his thrown and regain his kingdom." He paused for breath, looking around the town pointedly, "And the first thing he should do is vastly lower the taxes. Perhaps stop them altogether. Until the town's back on its feet, at the very least."
"There is a plan though, isn't there?" Draco asked of the man, "For the Prince's return?"
"Yes…" the man admitted slowly, "But no one knows exactly what it is. Well, except perhaps Dumbledore. I'd advise you speak to him."
Harry groaned at the mention of Dumbledore's name, earning a raised eyebrow from Draco and a rather puzzled look from the man.
"If ever you want a straight answer, he's the last person to ask," Harry explained, sighing, "The man gets a kick out of talking in riddles that leave a man more confused than he started out as. Don't misunderstand me, I love the man fiercely but he's an insane old genius. It was quite the experience learning to read and write from him."
"You're literate?" Draco asked in surprise.
"I had to learn in secret, of course," Harry amended, "But yes. And personally, I think the restrictions are absurd. If it were up to me, everyone would have the opportunity to learn how to read and write. It shouldn't be something only the wealthy known how to do."
"You've some very interesting ideas, Harry," Draco remarked, looking enchanted by such a notion.
"I'll take that as a complement," Harry returned brightly. Draco just rolled his eyes.
"I do apologize, but I must be going. I've been absent from my post long enough." The man said swiftly, bowing to Harry and Draco as he did so before standing and leading his daughter away. Olivia waved at Harry until they were out of sight.
The old adage about the speed of gossip was proved quite true that afternoon. It was actually rather amazing just how quickly word travelled through the town and before long, Harry was the subject of some very considering looks. Everyone Draco drilled for information seemed either unable to take their eyes off him or unable to look at him at all. Most curious of all, none of them identified him aloud and everyone they spoke to referred them to Dumbledore.
The sun was beginning to set when Harry and Draco finally began to make their way back to the palace, hoping to reach it in time to speak to Dumbledore. While Harry was still marvelling on all he'd seen in the town, Draco was wishing fervently to strangle King Vernon. Imagine letting your kingdom fall into such a state a state of disrepair. How could anyone justify such a thing? No wonder they'd gathered so much attention –even Harry was better dressed than most the villages.
And speaking of Harry, Draco had gotten the rather odd impression that he –who was, after all, only a slave –had been the centre of the attention. Which made no sense at all. And that scar. Draco had never even noticed it before then and, considering it was shaped like a lightning bolt, that was saying something. He wondered when and how Harry had managed to acquire such a mark and resolved to ask him the following day, when he would have time to pursue it properly.
And after they'd spoken to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore, sitting at his desk covered with intricate contraptions, beamed merrily the instant he saw Harry. Draco, observing the man curiously, raised a well-shaped eyebrow at his rather outrageous attire. An action that explained Dumbledore more adequately than words ever could.
"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore greeted, his eyes twinkling, "What can I do for you this fine day?"
"Not me," Harry returned, smiling, "Draco would like to you."
"Of course, of course," Dumbledore agreed, "Please, sit down. Would you like some tea? Or a lemon drop?"
"No, thank you," Draco returned, taking the offered seat. Harry followed suit.
"Very well," Dumbledore said, pouring a cup of his own, "Now, what can I do for you?"
"Tell us where the prince is," Draco replied at once, cutting straight to the heart of the matter, "You do know, don't you?"
"Of course," Dumbledore replied, as though that were a forgone conclusion. Draco stared at him expectantly but, completely unfazed, Dumbledore merely sipped his tea.
"And?" Draco demanded at last, frowning.
"Well I'm not about to tell you, now am I?" Dumbledore retorted rhetorically, "How much of a secret would it be then?"
"Told you so," Harry boasted quietly. Draco shot him a very exasperated glare.
"But you do have a plan?" Draco questioned at last, sighing.
"Naturally," Dumbledore agreed pleasantly.
"Now's when you tell us what it is," Harry chipped in, rolling his eyes.
Dumbledore grinned.
2 hours later…
"Brilliant," Harry sighed in awe, "But what's our part?"
"Your's is the most important," Dumbledore informed them, winking discretely at Harry, "You, Harry, I want to rally the snakes. I know you've an unusual understanding with the creatures and, quite frankly, we could use all the help we can get. I also want you to speak with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, both of whom live in the village. They were once very well respected before the King cast them out and could prove to be valuable assets if they agree to help."
"How did you know about the snakes?" Harry managed, wide-eyed.
"I have my ways," Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling, "A very rare gift, young Harry. You should be quite proud. I doubt even Prince Draco is a parselmouth.
Draco's jaw dropped.
"A parselmouth?" he echoed dumbly.
"I found out when I was fourteen," Harry explained sheepishly, "It was quite the shock."
"You are full of surprises, Harry," Draco marvelled, shaking his head.
"Thanks?"
Dumbledore chuckled and popped a lemon drop.
"Anyway," Draco began, back on track, "You said all that was Harry's job. What's mine? What part do I play?"
"You're the bait," Dumbledore answered, grinning. "And also the trap."
Draco blinked and frowned thoughtfully.
"I can see why," he admitted, grudgingly, "But I still feel rather useless. Might I assist Harry as well?"
"Go right ahead," Dumbledore allowed, "I'm sure Harry won't mind."
"This'll be fun." Harry quipped, grinning his acceptance.
Draco didn't look so sure.
The next day dawned bright, blue and early. They made their way into town as soon as they were ready and, despite the early hour, the streets were still brimming with life. They were stared at unabashedly as they walked and Draco could have sworn that Harry was, again, the centre of attention. Harry, however, seemed completely oblivious to anything at all and so Draco dismissed the matter from his mind.
"What number are they?" Draco asked, pausing.
"Forty-two," Harry returned, pointing in the direction they needed to go.
"Right," Draco agreed absently, leading the way and counting down the houses.
They found the house without trouble and, taking a moment to make himself presentable, Draco raised a hand and knocked loudly. There were a few muffled sounds from beyond the door and then, moments later, it was being wrenched open.
The man who stood before then had dark hair, brown eyes and a charmingly dishevelled look about him. He looked at Draco with wide eyes, clearly recognising him as royalty, but that was nothing compared to the look that crossed his face once he saw Harry.
His mouth fell open, his eyes bugged out of his head, he swayed where he stood and Harry would not have been surprised had the man dropped dead where he stood. He looked as though he was staring at a ghost.
"REMUS!" he yelled at last, voice loud enough to cause Harry and Draco to wince.
"WHAT?" came the answer from within the house.
"COME SEE WHOSE AT THE DOOR!" The man yelled, his face blooming into excited joy.
"JUST LET THEM IN!" the other voice returned, sounding annoyed.
The man, remembering himself, hastily did so. Draco, looking slightly affronted at being greeted in such a manner, entered cautiously.
Another man appeared as the first led them to the living room. This man had sandy brown hair, light eyes that were filled with kindness and the same charming quality the other man held, though his was slightly diminished by his clearly second hand clothes. He looked at Harry with a kind of started wonder that made him feel very out of place.
"Harry?" the man whispered at last, breathless, "Is that really you?"
Harry could do nothing more than nod.
"Can you believe it Moony?" the first man asked, grinning, "Isn't he just the spitting image of his father?"
"His mothers eyes," the second countered, smiling.
Harry blinked.
"You knew my parents?" he managed. Really, he'd already known this. His parents had been royalty, after all. But these men had clearly been more than subjects and Harry, having never known anything about his family, suddenly longed to know everything.
"Very well," the dark-haired man agreed, "I'm Sirius Black. I'm you godfather."
"Remus Lupin," the other man, Remus, put in.
"I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco added, looking uncomfortable, "Prince of Slytherin. I'll take a wild guess and stipulate that you already know my friend Harry?"
Sirius grinned at that and bowed. Remus followed suit.
"I'm your friend?" Harry asked of Draco, feeling very overwhelmed, "I'm your godson?"
"Of course," Draco replied as though that were obvious and to him, it was.
Sirius, all but bouncing in joy, simply nodded his head.
"Just hug, already," Draco demanded, pushing Harry toward Sirius, "The tension is killing me."
Harry laughed, immediately doing as he was asked. Sirius hugged him so tightly, Harry was sure he'd have bruises. He was also sure he could care less. Remus claimed a hug the moment they parted and Sirius, looking much more relaxed now, turned towards Draco.
"Now then," he began, "What's a Prince doing in our neck of the woods?"
Draco merely smirked.
"We've a proposition for you."
Remus and Sirius liked to Harry who grinned slyly at them both, a very cunning glint in his eyes. The two men traded glances before breaking into smirks themselves. Sirius actually rubbed his hands together.
"How may we be of service?"
TBC...